Time Warped
by Groovey Blueberry
Summary: When an experiment goes wrong, what happens to the Asylum Crew this time?


Sasha pushed enter on his keyboard to send the email. Fred, Gloria, Crispin, and Edger. The Asylum Crew, as the kids called them. They were all close to the children at the academy. It was early on a Saturday morning, none of them had any reason to be awake, particularly the resident psychiatrist, Fred. It was testing week, so anyone with worries or paranoia went to talk to him. He was the one he was really interested in. How would the psitanium effect him? Would Napoleon return, would he shrink or get even taller? Sasha was excited, this would anger Milla, yes, but it was for science, not to impress a member of the opposite gender. This experiment, it would be revolutionary. This _could_ possibly turn back time mentally? It was already known that radiation from the mineral caused insanity or heightened psychic ability, but direct exposure? The effects could range from similar to the radiation to nothing at all. He just wasn't sure of the effects, which awas why he was so eager to try it on Fred.

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"Where is he!?"

Crispin paced down the hallway for the eighty-third time, this time kicking a door. Fred was huddled in a tired ball in a fetal position on the floor. He looked up; his blue eyes tired and clouded. He was even paler than usual and his hair looked like he hadn't bothered trying to fix it, the dark strands sticking up in the back more than usual and hanging limply into his eyes.

"You're talking…why, is Nein here yet? I need sleep, I don't understand why they ask me these things at midnight." Fred grumbled from under the hood of his green sweatshirt.

"Now, Fred, be nice. He'll be here soon." Gloria cooed, patting his head through his hood.

Edger stood silent, watching Crispin pace back and forth. There was a pleasant ding from the elevator and Sasha Nein stepped out. He strode confidently towards the foursome, holding numerous white folders under his arm with their names on them. Fred struggled to his feet with Edger's help.

"Mien Gott, Bonaparte, you look like hell." Sasha observed.

"Yeah, well, you're the general cause of the hell; you put way too much pressure on these poor kids. You should hear some of the stuff they tell me." replied Fred as he trudged down the hallway, his sneakers squelching as he walked.

"So, what are you planning to do?" Gloria asked sweetly, batting her eyelids.

"Si, are you going to look in our heads or put something there?" asked Edger

"You'll see. Now stop asking questions."

Sasha Nein led Fred, Gloria, Crispin, and Edger down the cold metallic interior of his lab. It was an interesting sight, watching this motley crew walk down the hallway. Eight months had passed since they left Thorney Towers, and since they knew about the government's top secret agency, they were given various posts within the organization. Fred was finally recognized as a qualified psychiatrist within the academy instead of an orderly, which had ended up becoming Crispin's position. The two had finally learned to get along, and they were almost friends. Gloria became the "acting coach" for young field agents attending the academy and Edger taught in the art therapy room. They had lost all contact with Boyd.

"What exactly are we doing Nein?" questioned Crispin, "Last time I was in your lab, you were going through my head."

"You'll see, Whytehead."

"He has a point Sasha," yawned Fred, "The last time you led us down this way, you were making sure we weren't crazy anymore. That probe room thing…" he trailed off.

"You mean the Brain Tumbler? It's harmless, it's just to look into your subconscious." said Sasha.

"You poked around in my brain." Fred muttered, frustrated. "You saw things I didn't want to remember. I don't consider that safe."

"Well, it is safe. There's nothing to worry about. All I'm going to do is gas you with some psitanium gas. You may feel light-headed, but nothing severe. " Sasha stated reassuringly.

"What about the whole, you know, crazy thing? We've been clean for almost three years now. I don't want to go back to that." Fred said.

"I promise. Nothing bad will happen. I would never conduct an experiment like this if it was unsafe. You are the best Pyschonauts academy has had in a while, why would I risk that?" replied Sasha. "It's perfectly safe."

"So is smoking…" whispered Crispin dryly.

Gloria and Edger remained silent throughout the conversation, knowing that crossing Crispin was the wrong thing to do, especially when he was already cross. Crossing Sasha was different, he could mess with your head, or so the former inmates assumed.

They continued through the long dismal hall, they knew the room they were going to, the one with the chairs with helmets and straps on them. They finally reached the cold room, and, after casting one another looks the inmates of Thorney Towers made their way towards the chairs. Sasha shot Fred an annoyed look, knowing that, like always the seat would be too high.

"Damnit Bonaparte, why do you have to be so tall?" Sasha grumbled, pulling a knob to make one of the chairs of mental torture go down. It hit the floor with a sickening metallic thud.

"We're just doing a little experiment with some psitanium is all. It's perfectly harmless because it's low concentration. Nothing will go wrong."

Fred sat down at looked around Sasha's lab while Sasha played with various knobs and levers on the machine. Orderly, sickeningly neat…that was the only way to describe it. Sasha waved his hand and the wrist straps were guided across everyone's wrists. Fred and Crispin stared at each other and Gloria let out a small gasp. More minutes of waiting in silence, Sasha seemed to be having trouble adjusting something on the control panel. Suddenly he gripped the largest lever and pulled it, then again as if it were stuck or jammed. He pulled the lever so hard it snapped in half.

"Hay dios mio" muttered Edger "Does this mean that we can-"

He was cut off when mask with a hose attached to it snaked out from behind the chair and was making its way toward his face. The spewing purple green gas smelled sickly sweet in the cold now horror movie-like interior of Sasha's lab. He looked around for help, but everyone else seemed to be in the same predicament, if not worse. Crispin and Gloria, the two smallest of the group had already been rendered unconscious, if not dead from the supposedly not poisonous gas. Gloria's head tipped to on side, her bright red curls spilling across her face. Fred on the other hand was fighting more valiantly than he had expected. It was also the most wiggling he had also ever seen another man do. However, the wiggling was useless because he was in the same state as Gloria and Crispin about a minute later.


End file.
